


Moonstones for Money

by magicgenetek



Series: Dead Men's Party [1]
Category: Kingdom Hearts, Princess and the Frog (2009)
Genre: First Meetings, Gen, M/M, Mardi Gras, Misunderstandings, Period-Typical Racism, Pre-Canon, Pre-Kingdom Hearts I, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-26
Updated: 2015-01-31
Packaged: 2018-03-09 02:40:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3233180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magicgenetek/pseuds/magicgenetek
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Facilier does not have patience for fools, white people, or anyone who wakes him up before sunrise - unless they happen to have enough money to keep him fed for a month. And becoming a tour guide for some dumbass in a black coat can't be that bad, right? Why would he ever regret offering to show Luxord the places with the most heart in New Orleans?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Dumbass on the Roof

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chuplayswithfire](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chuplayswithfire/gifts).



Facilier had lived in the house the widow Euphemia gave him for near five years now. She'd bequeathed it to him in her will; her husband and two small sons had died in that car crash, and the only family around now were a few second cousins 'who already had their own house, so, it only makes sense I give my house in payment to my dear Doctor Facilier.'

Rumor had it that Facilier had something to do with her death: 28, in bed, a smile on her face but no beat in her heart. The Shadow Man would do anything to get rich! Which was completely untrue, thank you very much – it wouldn't do any good to kill a paying customer, even if she'd ended up paying him in leftovers and knick knacks towards the end. Even Facilier had enough warmth in his heart not to turn away a grieving widow who wanted to see her family again.

Besides, who would kill for a house like this? Two rooms long, one room wide, and a creaking staircase which connected shop below with living quarters above. Ten years of candles and incense hadn't chased away the smell of musty roses that had covered Euphemia like a shroud.

The nice thing about it, though, was that it was only Facilier in the house. No having to babysit smelly, noisy children. No having some fool overdo the spices in stew and have the air in his tiny kitchen leave his eyes stinging for the rest of the day. No cleaning up someone else's messes.

_Thump._

And best of all, no one running around on the floor above and waking Facilier up from a nice sleep.

_Thump. Thump. Thump._

After all, he was on the top floor. What kind of person would walk around on the roof?

_CRASH._

Facilier's eyes snapped open. Someone – or something, gods forbid – was on his roof, and the pink light softly unspooling through his window proved that it was too early in the morning for Facilier to deserve dealing with this nonsense.

He pulled on his jacket and grabbed his cane from the side of the bed, then hopped to the window and shoved it open in one swift motion. He then whapped at his roof with his cane, trying to get the attention of whatever was up there. Even if it was a monster, or worse, a thief, he was not going to deal with this. The Shadow Man was feared for a reason, and he was not going to put up with shenanigans.

A face peeked over the side of his roof.

The third thing Facilier noticed was how the man was wearing a jacket black and shiny as an oil spill. He'd never seen material like that before.

The second thing was the sharpness of the man's face. It was reminiscent of the Chinese families that ran laundries and shops in the dwindling remains of New Orleans' Chinatown – but he was blonde and blue-eyed, and had the guileless face of someone who lied often and well, which squarely pegged him as white.

The first thing Facilier noticed was how, well, smooth the man was. Like a child's toy. No pox marks, no scars, teeth shiny and white as pearls, hair, mustache and goatee burnished near gold under the sunrise. Not statuesque, because that implied a beauty that did not unnerve; doll didn't suggest danger. If Facilier was more awake, he'd be unwary.

But it was too early to bother with fear; his head was still foggy from sleep. He pointed his cane at the stranger.

“White boy,” Facilier said. “get off my roof.”

The man blinked. “But I'm wearing black.”

“Wise guy, huh?” Facilier waved his cane at him. And another unease itched at the back of his head, because the man wasn't angry, wasn't sneering, because a black man talked back to a white man.

But if the man wouldn't strike, Facilier would take that to his advantage. Maybe he was dreaming. Who knew? There was no one in his little house who'd miss him if he made a misstep.

“Look, I only take customers here, so unless you're going to pay me, get off my roof.”

“Is that it?” Blink. The man disappeared for a moment, then waved a small bag at Facilier. “If it's avarice that warms your heart, here is something to fan the flames. Will that allow me to stay?”

Facilier snatched the bag and upended it in his hand. A dozen small stones fell – translucent with a blue sheen, and they caught the light like dewdrops.

Gemstones. A bag full of gemstones. The fool on the roof had given him a bag full of gemstones. If Facilier went to the right jeweler, he could feed himself for a month without worrying about work.

The metaphorical cash register went ding inside Facilier's head. There weren't many others awake and in the neighborhood at this time of morning, and the man wasn't aggressive, and this was not the riskiest gamble Facilier had taken in the pursuit of safety and profit.

“Are you comfortable up there?” Facilier asked, and waved his cane in a more friendly manner. “If you're willing to pay, I'll let you come in here for – whatever it is you're doing.”

“I'm waiting for the festival,” the man said. “I was told that the greatest Mardi Gras celebration in all the worlds is here, so I was waiting for the festivities to begin.”

“You waited until now to come? Today's Shrove Tuesday! You've missed full weeks of celebration!” Facilier rapped on the roof with his cane for emphasis. “Tonight's got the biggest celebrations, though, so you're not completely out of luck. Why are you on my roof?”

“A rooftop would be an ideal place to watch the parade,” the man said.

“The parade here isn't very tourist-worthy. There's better ones to watch,” Facilier said. He tapped the window with his cane. “Get in here before someone sees you on the roof, thinks you a thief and calls the police.”

He doubted anyone would. But a rich man from far off – Europe, maybe, with that accent? - who didn't know his head from his ass was a rare gift. Maybe the man was a liar, like he'd first thought, but Facilier was starting to get the impression that the clueless gaze was real.

“Alright,” said the man. “Step away from the window.”

Facilier did. After a moment, the man swung into his window from the roof and landed knees bent, not a hair out of place.

“Good. You're in,” Facilier said.

He had the rich white boy in the house. Now he would -

Now he would what?

Facilier was still in his pajamas. And that was the window to his bedroom. And the man was looking around at his bedroom, and his bed, and Facilier felt his ears heat up.

“Why don't you go downstairs while I get dressed and we can find somewhere else for you to be,” Facilier said, and pointed through the kitchen to the door downstairs.

“As you command,” the man said without a hint of irony, and there he went.

And that was that. No fighting, no rage, nothing. As if the way the world worked hadn't reversed itself for the tenth time in as many minutes.

“I'm dreaming,” Facilier said, and went back to bed.


	2. Contract

By the time Facilier was awake enough to realize he'd left the window open, the humidity was sticky on his skin and the sun had found the perfect place sneak past his eyelids. He groaned and rolled himself out of bed.

Shut the window. Find some pants. Peel his Shadow off the wall. “Wake up, you. We've got a long day ahead of us.”

Shadow stretched out; sun on wallpaper gave Shadow room to unwind, sinuous as a snake, and xe fluffed up the shadow of Facilier's hair before gliding to the kitchen and yanking out the half-empty carton of shredded oats, shaking it like a maraca.

Facilier sighed. “Yes, I'll eat, I'll eat. Stop jerking that around or you'll spill it and we'll get mice.”

Shadow chittered and tugged on one of Facilier's feet. He grasped his cane tighter and took the carton of oats, started making himself oatmeal.

“Look, things are tight until I get a new customer. Had a dream one showed up, but rich white boys don't climb around on roofs, do they? Besides, two meals a day is plenty.”

Shadow flitted into the other room, then returned with a small bag lumpy with marbles. A quick tug on the shadow of the bag upended -

Gemstones that glowed like the moon.

“It wasn't a dream,” Facilier said. With shaking hands, he put down the fixings for oatmeal. “I told him to go downstairs. Hours ago.”

Shadow had the door to the stairs open so Facilier could rocket to the stairs and hop down two at a time, Shadow helping his feet fall steady. He slammed the door open, prepared to see his shop in pieces, torn apart for the most valuable bits and bobs.

What he found was the man in black reading in the curtained séance chamber. He'd taken three of Facilier's books from the shelves and was nose deep in the fourth, occasionally scribbling a note on a pad of paper by his side. Other than that, nothing seemed to have been touched.

“Good morning,” the man said without looking up. “I didn't know when you would emerge, and I noticed you had books on the city. Since I am here to see the sights, I decided to do some research.”

“Course you did,” Facilier said, panic settling to a dull ache in his stomach. He took the chair across from the man in black. “You a tourist, then? Visiting from Europe?”

“Yes,” the man said smoothly. “New Orleans is rumored to be a rare gem in a sea of mud and filth. It's a city full of heart. I came to find the heart of New Orleans.”

Definitely foreign, Facilier thought, with that kind of weird phrasing. “Full of heart, huh? You came to the right place. I dunno if there's a heart of New Orleans, but there's plenty of places with heart in them.” He gestured at what he now recognized as a cheap tourist's guide to New Orleans. “You've got a list now? Other than just seeing the Mardi Gras festivities.”

A nod. “I do.” The man folded the book shut. “I've looked around your shop. You seem to be a person of wisdom who knows the area, and your shop, though well stocked, is not well attended. Would you be inclined to guide me around New Orleans? I'll pay all expenses alongside your fees as a guide.”

“No one is here because it's Shrove Tuesday,” Facilier said, and schooled his face not to snarl. Rich customer. Play along. Even with that insult. “But if you're willing to keep paying like you have before...”

“I don't believe anyone can exchange my money into the money that's used here, so I'll pay in jewels,” the man confirmed. “As much as you specify. We can write a contract so you don't feel cheated, as long as you stay steadfast in obeying it.”

It was an effort not to roll his eyes. Steadfastly obey? This fool was lucky he was rich or Facilier would have kicked him out for that kind of white nonsense. “If you're willing to pay for it, I'll do it,” Facilier said.

The next few minutes were spent scribbling on the man's notepaper together, working out the details of the contract. The man had the kind of plain, squared off print Facilier expected from ditch diggers or foremen, not rich European assholes, but he didn't comment on Facilier's sixth grade chickenscribble so Facilier kept his mouth shut.

“Once a week, I spend the day showing you around town, starting today,” Facilier concluded. “You'll give me a big bag of gems once a week, and half of that is my pay and the other half is what I use to pay you around town, since you don't know how to get that changed. Especially good tours get a bonus of a second bag of gems the next week. You pay me if you don't show up and I stay in my shop all day waiting for you. And if there's something you don't know on account of being a foreigner, I explain it to you on account of you giving me gems.”

“Is there anything else you want in there?”

Facilier wrote: 'More to be added if Facilier doesn’t like how things are.'

“Fair enough.” The man flourished his pencil. “Shall we sign it?”

They signed it. Facilier's signature spiked **LF** , while the man wrote his name in that same square hand, then scribbled a few symbols under it.

“What're those?” Facilier said. They didn't look like any veve or runes he'd ever seen, but he could never be too careful.

“Katakana. They show how to pronounce my name.” He ran his finger over the symbols. ルクソード ・レイティエント. “Luxord Radiant.”

“You really are from far off, with a name like that,” Facilier said. Of course the weird white boy was named Radiant. Of course. Luxord probably meant shiny light or something like that. Just his luck. “You hungry?”

“I would find food amenable,” the man said.

“Then come with me as I get these gemstones changed up, and I'll stuff your face with what New Orleans has to offer. 'less you want to stay here and read some more?”

Luxord's mouth twitched into a smile. “I'll take this book with me, but yes. The city awaits.”


	3. Rabbits Don't Lay Eggs

“Where did you get these?” the jeweler asked. “Trick some woman out of her necklace?”

There weren't many black jewelers in town, far as Facilier knew, so dealing with the one he did know – Melvin, second cousin, once removed – was a sacrifice he'd have to make in the pursuit of money.

“I found a customer who's willing to pay me what I'm worth,” Facilier replied. He drummed his fingers on the countertop, teeth gritted. “Now, are you going to pay me for them, or do I have to go elsewhere to get my money's worth?”

His cousin sighed and took the bag into the back. “Yes, I will. Someone's going to love having these moonstones around their neck soon enough.”

“I'd rather have some dough in my hands!” Facilier shouted after him.

Ten minutes later, Facilier came out of the shop with the biggest stack of bills he'd held in years. Sometimes he'd get a dollar or two for a job, maybe a solid ten if a rich white person came to him with a big task and felt benevolent, but most of his customers paid in food or supplies. They didn't have money to spend either, and trade suited Facilier fine. But now he had money, greengrey and thin and fluttery in his hands, and it was all his and if he was skipping a little as he came out of the shop, he could not be blamed for it. Even Shadow was happy, curled around the shadow of the money so it wouldn't fly off if the wind or a pickpocket happened upon them.

Luxord looked up from the guidebook; it didn't look like he'd moved from his place with back against brick wall since Facilier had gone inside save to turn the pages. “Negotiations went well?”

“We feast tonight!” Facilier laughed. “I'm going to eat like a king!”

“Appropriate for a festival.” Luxord closed the book. “Where will we eat?”

“Anywhere we damn well please!” He spun happily and pointed his cane in a random direction. “There. We'll go there and eat at wherever there is.”

There turned out to be Duke's, all burgundy wallpaper and yellow curtains. It wasn't as crowded as usual, so Facilier lead Luxord to a booth in the back and looked over the menu ravenously. He hadn't been out to a restaurant proper in months, so he was going to make it worth it. The air was full of sausage grease and butter and powered sugar and Facilier was going to eat all of it.

The waitress's eyebrows almost shot past her hairline when she saw the Shadow Man waiting in a fading booth, and Facilier watched them go even higher as she looked at the white boy in the black coat staring at the menu like it was a holy gospel. But she didn't say anything, so Facilier didn't say something sharp about how the stains on her nametag turned her from Tiana to Ti na, and instead ordered enough eggs and saugages to feed a small army.

Luxord leaned over to Facilier. “What's famous and regional here?”

“Get him beigneits and chickory coffee,” Facilier said, and gave Tiana a look of 'I can't believe him either.' “And gumbo if you've got anything cooking.”

“Of course,” Tiana said, and her face said that for once, she was considering feeling bad for the big bad Shadow Man.

She left with their menus. Luxord watched, looked around, absorbing details. Facilier tried to keep his questions in, but -

“How do you not know anything about New Orleans food? Everyone knows about New Orleans food!”

Luxord didn't blink. “I don't.”

“How do you know about Mardi Gras and not know about anything else? Did you just get off the boat or something?”

“Yes. This is my first day in this city, in this country. I'm from very far away.” He had that guileless look on his face; again, Facilier felt an itch of unease. A lie?

But what was the point in acting this clueless and trusting money and guidance to Facilier, of all people?

“Where? You from Europe?”

Luxord's smooth face twitched. “Why do you ask? Is it not enough that I'm paying you?”

Facilier waved his hands. “There's no need to be angry! I'm just curious! You're just – clueless. You don't know a thing.”

“Because I'm new.” Each word thudded onto the table with a dull finality. But there was no menace behind it; simply the verbal equivalent of a brick wall.

Facilier knew how to get through walls if need be. This was a mystery he wanted solved, if only for his own satisfaction. “Fine, fine, yes. You're new. I got it,” he said, and he leaned back in the booth. “Who told you about Mardi Gras?”

“Jack the Pumpkin King,” Luxord said. Facilier snorted. “He loves Halloween, and he has friends who love other holidays. The town of Easterville mentioned New Orleans as being incredible, so I decided to visit. And so here I am.”

“Jack the King Pumpkin who loves Halloween? That's such a tall tale that I'm inclined to believe it. I suppose the Easter Bunny's in charge of Easterville?”

“Of course she is,” Luxord said, face completely straight.

“Of course,” Facilier said. “Of course. Next you'll tell me she's an actual six foot rabbit who lays eggs.”

“Rabbits don't lay eggs,” Luxord said, and that was when Tiana returned with arms full of food to put in front of them, her lips pursed like she was trying not to laugh.

“What kind of tall tales is the Shadow Man feeding you, white boy?” she asked. “Rabbits laying eggs? You usually have a better line.”

Facilier glared and answered through a mouth full of egg. “Don't go scaring off my customers, girl. I'll give you a price you can't afford.”

“Besides, I'm the one who was telling tales,” Luxord said quickly. “He was questioning my veracity, not the reverse. And a guide who tells tales is infinitely superior to one who does not, for how else can I find the heart of the matter without finding someone who's full of heart?”

“Him? Full of heart?” Facilier glared at Tiana, and she shut up, but the words were said. Was he going to get fired? If Facilier was fired, he would curse her to hell and back.

“Yes, full of heart. It's hard to find someone with such a heart,” Luxord said, and Facilier breathed a sigh of relief before turning up his glare at Tiana.

“Enough meddling. I'm not doing anything illegal, and you should know better than to be pecking at me by now. He's my tourist, and it's rude to try and poach him.” He shooed her, and she skittered off.

“Should she have scrambled me instead? Or perhaps fried?” Luxord asked.

Facilier stole one of his beignets. “No puns.”

“Fine,” Luxord said, still smooth faced and calm like Facilier hadn't gone after his food, and ate a beignet himself.

Facilier would wonder about what made the man so calm, as if unable to get angry – or maybe why he always seemed to be so flat, so smooth – but then Luxord's eyes fluttered shut as he chewed. No doubt the powdered sugar was melting in his mouth already, the fried outside giving way to warm, soft dough inside, sweet and buttery and Luxord made a noise of satisfaction Facilier usually only heard when he took shortcuts through the red light district.

“See? I wouldn't lead you wrong,” Facilier said, grinning. Hook, line and sinker. He was keeping this tourist, this new golden goose, all to himself.

“Of course not. Your heart would not lead me astray,” Luxord said, and looked at Facilier with lidded eyes and a faint smile. Facilier quickly turned back to his food, and didn't look at Luxord again until after the check came.


	4. Flying Asshole Brigade

Luxord didn't get ten feet out of the restaurant before being transfixed by a passing jazz band. Facilier let him follow them for a while, then took him to rest on a park bench, where Luxord asked for some coins, hit up a passing hot dog stand and came back with two dogs. He handed one to Facilier and started eating.

“You didn't have to do that,” Facilier said. He'd eaten a lot at lunch, but food could be scarce; he was hardly one to turn it down. The dog was warm and savory, if a little bland after Tiana's breakfast sausages, so he ate slowly.

“The gumbo wasn't ready when we left, so I wanted something with meat on it before we explored,” Luxord explained. He didn't have the same euphoric look for the hot dog that he'd given the beignets or the chicory coffee, but that was good. Having that guileless euphoria focused in Facilier's direction made him feel guilty about not feeling guilty about thinking about wringing every cent out of this dumbass as possible. Stupid white boy shouldn't feel so happy about having food. He was rich. He could eat whenever he wanted! He didn't live from meal to meal.

“So, what next? The parades start in about an hour.”

Luxord nodded. “Let's find a place on the rooftops to watch – somewhere we won't be disturbed. There will be no crowds, and so we shall watch in peace.”

“Fine. Before we do, I want to put on my mask. It's traditional to wear a mask,” Facilier said. “Do we have to pick you up a mask to wear?”

Luxord closed his eyes, then opened them, nodded. “I have a costume I can wear. I can meet you at your shop in half an hour. Is that sufficient time?”

“It's good enough,” Facilier said.

So Luxord wandered off with the last of his hot dog, and Facilier went home to his clothing.

His skull mask stared back at him in his little bedroom shrine. He had made it long ago, when he was 14, made from paper mache and paint, back when his mother was alive and he could afford things. Of all the loa who lived in the space between the Supreme Creator and humanity, Facilier liked the humans-turned-psychopomps ghede best, and their leader Baron Samedi most of all. The ghede were crude and playful and more alive than most humans he met, and serving them had been as natural as breathing. Facilier had made the Baron's mask hoping that the Baron himself would possess him, ride his body and visit him with guidance.

But he served demons now, not the ghede loa. Facilier doubted he would be accepted back with that little crime staining his soul. 

**Do you miss your little saint-spirits?**

Facilier sighed and rubbed his temples as a beat started inside his head. His Friends were never subtle about contacting him. Never had been, probably never would be. And they always, always brought along that damn drumming.

"They aren't saints, nor are they little. How many times have I told you?”

**It makes little difference to us.**

He didn't have to turn around to know that there would be masks floating behind him. He turned anyway. The big bull-faced one, the leader, liked to be seen, and it stared down at him from where it floated.

**We have a message. Do not remain in contact with the nothing man. He is dangerous.**

“Nothing man? What are you talking about?”

 **The white boy,** giggled the mask of the small child.

“Oh, Luxord?” Facilier said, and didn't hesitate in his reply. “No.”

**We are your benefactors!** snapped the one with a rich woman's face. 

“Yes, but you don't put bread in my belly! I can't keep you all fed on the souls you like if I'm starving, and he's offered to pay me a fortune. Which means,” and Facilier pointed at himself, “I can stay fed, and I don't have to take breaks from finding souls for you,” and he pointed to them, “to make sure I don't starve!”

The two masks that resembled young men yelled in tandem. **He is nothing. All he will ever be is nothing. He is nothing to us. A nothing cannot be sacrificed! Nothing is nothing is nothing!**

Facilier put his hands up to plead with them. “Alright, alright, he's nothing to you! You don't want his soul! Fine, fine, I got it, I got it! But he has money. I need money! More money means more time to get more souls!”

The bull-faced mask frowned and looked to the gator mask, then the rich woman's mask. **Fine. Show us more souls and we shall not argue. But remember: we are the ones you serve. Do not waver for one man.**

“Why would I waver?” Facilier asked. “Are you – jealous? Because I left the shop without warning? Or do you think I'm so foolhardy I'd forget my debts because of a few jewels?”

One of the small ones squalled. **Not jealous. Can't be jealous of nothing. He tempts you. You serve _us_!**

“It's not like I can leave y'all.” Facilier took the Baron's mask and tied it on. The squalling one shied away from it; even if he doubted he was welcomed by his loa anymore, the Baron still had power. The deathless Friends had little fondness for the loa that controlled who lived and who died. “Now let me get to my work. I'll bring you souls by the week's end.”

**Fine. Go.**

The masks floated away. Facilier felt a tension he hadn't realized he had leave his shoulders, and he double checked the knots holding the mask to his head. He didn't want to have it fall off – the Friends on the other side were nothing if not persistent, and he didn't want them to chase away his golden goose. Luxord wouldn't lay eggs, so to speak, if he was gone.

Facilier kept a tureen of the best rum he could afford next to his alter. He poured out a small glass of it now and set it on the alter. “Thank you, Baron, for giving me your image to chase them off. I'm hopin' you feel generous enough to keep them off my back tonight so I can make sure I can eat this next month." He didn't think the loa would accept him anymore, but that didn't mean he'd up and turn his back on them or stop offering them libations. It'd be like asking a Catholic to stop praying. Once he got the Friends paid off, he could go back to helping those in the space between life and death. Hopefully.

Facilier was making sure his top hat was on right when he heard a knock on his window. Of course. He sighed and opened it up. “Are you up on my roof again?”

“It's the only way to get from place to place comfortably,” Luxord replied, his head poking over the side. “Do you have a way onto your roof?”

“Yeah. Hold your horses, white boy, I'll be up there in a minute.”

The hatch and ladder onto the roof weren't easy to yank down, which was why Shadow did it for him, and steadied his balance as he climbed with his cane tucked under his arm.

Luxord was waiting in a ridiculous costume. He'd gotten his mask on while Facilier climbed – a silver thing, almost a helmet, with five points radiating from it like a star. A pink cape hugged his shoulders and fell to his knees; purple sleeves came from it, and cartoonishly large silver gloves to match the silver chain mail that went down to mid-thigh. Overlarge silver boots and purple pants completed the set.

“Are you supposed to be a knight in shining armor?” Facilier raised an eyebrow.

“I'm hardly the type to come riding on a gold chocobo expecting a princess for nothing,” Luxord replied. He flipped a coin in the air, caught it, tossed it between his hands. “If I am a knight, I am one loyal to the king, who toils the fields and works for the kingdom."

“Pretty words, white boy,” Facilier said, and resisted the urge to roll his eyes. As if this bozo would know what the fields were like, and how they baked your flesh and cut your hands until they were stone.

Luxord looked down at his clothing. “I'm wearing pink this time.”

“You're clueless. Come on, we're going to miss the parade if we don't hurry.” Facilier started walking, and Luxord followed. “What's a chocobo?”

“A domesticated bird used for transport in rural areas. Gold chocobos are the rarest and fastest of them all,” Luxord explained. “I apologize. Horses are what are used here, are they not?”

“Yeah, we don't ride birds.” Facilier gave Luxord an appraising look. Apologies? It was obvious that Luxord was from rural wherever it was now, and having a white man apologizing to _him_ for strange slang – well. Facilier could get used to this arrangement. Nothing was nothing was nothing, but money also happened to be money. “Why do you like the roofs so much?”

“There was limited space to build in my hometown. It was common to have walkways on roofs. It's a habit I've yet to grow out of.”

“Cute, white boy. Let's get to the parade.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not a practitioner of Louisiana Voudou. I am trying to portray it in a respectful way in my fic. My beta and I have been doing research for this fic, but if we mess it up, please drop me a line and I'll do my best to fix it!


	5. The Price of Your Heart

Parade music was already blaring by the time they found a good roof to watch from. A few floats had already passed by. Luxord sat with his feet swinging over a three story drop, while Facilier and Shadow settled in a safe distance from the edge.

He hadn't taken time to watch the parade properly for the last few years. Hard work, no play, dull boy, et cetera. The Shadow Man took customers whenever they came to him, day and night, rain and shine, or he stayed in and studied and made potions and amulets to prepare for when people did come to him. No one had ever hired him to watch parades before.

It was almost cute, watching Luxord watch the parade. His head bobbed as he watched floats roll by, and occasionally he'd snap to the music, or point at a parade float then tap his forehead. He didn't speak at all until the King of Mardi Gras float rolled by. Facilier grimaced and looked away from Eli LeBouf in his royal robes red as the blood Facilier knew his hands were covered in, and thus almost didn't see Luxord's gesture towards him.

“Who is that?”

Facilier tried not to let too much disdain leak into his voice. He failed. “Eli LeBouf. He's riding the King of New Orleans float, which is basically a popularity contest between rich white men. This is his third year winning, in part because of how well his sugar crop's done these past years and in part because his daughter's one of the most eligible bachalorettes in the city.”

“Is that why there's no guards on the float?”

Facilier gave Luxord a confused look. “What?”

Luxord pointed. “There's very little security there. Someone could easily jump onto the float if need be. There's no shielding around the float, too, so someone with a long range weapon could easily shoot him and get away before anyone could react. He doesn't appear to have equipped anything protective, either, which suggests - “

“Now hold up, white boy,” Facilier said. “First of all, why the hell would anyone attack the floats on Shrove Tuesday? This is one of the most important days of the year, especially since it's about to be Lent. Second, any man who attacked LeBouf would be dead before sunrise on account of the sheer amount of vigilantes that'd go after him. Third off, if you're going to try and kill anyone, you have to tell me so I can get away from you first!”

Luxord shook his head. “I won't kill anyone. I'm merely thinking out loud.”

“Don't be morbid. You'll get me killed if someone hears you talking that nonsense in public.”

LeBouf's float turned the corner. Luxord watched until it was hidden by a far off building, then turned to Facilier. “Are there other parades around? I've seen all I need to see here.”

There were more parades. They visited three before the sun set. Facilier lead; Luxord followed. At the second parade, Luxord found a candy cart and bought all that he could carry, sharing with Facilier. At the third, Facilier bought a bottle of something red and sweet and the two of them took turns sipping from the bottle. At the fourth, they were both sitting against a chimney and watching the lights go by.

“I'm starting to think this has more liquor in it than I expected,” Facilier said, and flicked the half-empty bottle. It rang like a bell. “I wanted a pick me up to get me to all the parades, not for my head to start spinnin'.”

“Next time, I'll bring some,” Luxord said. He waved at the few stars that dotted the sky. “I'll be up to my neck in trouble for procrastinating my return, but I don't wish to leave. This has been a most delightful day.”

“Got a curfew, huh?” Facilier cackled. “Mommy keeping the apron-strings tight?”

Luxord groaned. “Step-father. Come home every night else I send your brothers after you.”

“All riches come with a price, white boy. That's yours.” Facilier picked up the bottle to drink, but Luxord plucked it out of his hands, lifted up his helmet lid and drank deep. “Hey!”

“I needed that for your wonderful reminder,” Luxord said. “I'm going to drink until I feel something that's not a depth-less whirlpool of ennui. Perhaps I'll become nauseous and be regretful instead of simply existing like an overripe sack of potatoes.”

“Get drunk if you want. I don't care as long as you give me my money. Your money. Whatever.” Facilier stole the bottle back and drank. Whatever this liquor was, it masked it's harshness with a syrupy sweetness; all Facilier felt of the alcohol was heat in his ears and the slow unfocusing of the world from his body.

“Alright.” Luxord leaned against Facilier's shoulder. “How much will it cost to get your heart?”

Facilier knew he wasn't sober when the question sent him into peals of laughter and not a cold sweat. Ok, maybe a little cold sweat. But Luxord's voice didn't have the low edge of threat that white people used when hiding a demand in a question, and the way his five-pointed helmet cocked inquisitive against the moon made him look like a card marked pentacles.

Well, he was rich enough for it. Once Facilier caught his breath, he shook his head. “You'll have to pay a lot more than what you're paying me now for that.”

“How much?” Luxord asked. He sounded breathless. “Name your price.”

“All your money,” Facilier said impulsively. The golden goose hadn't said no to his prices yet. “Give me everything you own. Ask that rich step-daddy of yours for a loan.”

“Yours,” Luxord said. “All yours, for that heart.” He reached forth, and Facilier braced himself, ready to earn that reward. But all Luxord did was trace over Facilier's chest and felt his heart beating. His fingers curved over it, palmed. “Though you wade in an ocean of sins, they have yet to bleach your heart colorless. It remains an opal that holds a rainbow set in stone.”

“Mounsuir Luxord,” Facilier breathed, “I'm starting to think we're not talking about the same things.”

Luxord didn't look up, head lowering to press against Facilier's collarbone. “What do you think we're talking about?”

“Sex.”

Facilier hadn't seen a man fly away from him so fast since he beat that priest in a game of poker. “That's not what I meant to propose at all!” Luxord said quickly, hands held up and far away; Facilier would have bet ten whole dollars the man was bright red under his helmet. “I had not meant to imply – ”

“Calm down, white boy. It's fine.” Luxord shut up, and Facilier relaxed. “I'm – flattered? – that you're concerned about my virtue, but you're certainly not the first to ask, although probably the first who could afford it. What were you meaning with your talk of hearts and opals and all?”

“Nothing,” Luxord said. “Put it behind you. This is – not a matter that should be settled while we drink.” He tried to get his legs under him. “I should take you back to your house and go. I've been far too lax in my duties, and far too forward with you.”

“Hold on! Do you even know where my house is? And where are you going to go, that drunk and in that outfit?” Facilier wobbled to his feet, using his cane to support his shaking legs. “How are you supposed to pay me if you get killed or lost?”

“Are you suggesting I spend the night?”

“Yes. You can pay me for it in the morning.”

“So be it.” Luxord finished untangling his legs and hopped up, then pointed at Facilier. “Can you walk?”

“Yes.” He took a step, almost dropped his cane, and then grabbed the chimney. “Yes, I can.”

“No, you can't. I'm taking you home. You can't guide me if you get killed or lost,” Luxord said. “I'll pay you extra if you let me take you home.”  
  
How could Facilier refuse an offer like that? In a moment, Luxord had Facilier on him back piggy-back, arms wrapped around Facilier's legs. Facilier wrapped his arms around Luxord's shoulders and clung tight; Shadow curled around his wrist and watched warily.

The world became a blur as Luxord jumped from roof to roof. His footsteps were steady. Facilier felt no fear of falling. And Luxord, this close, smelled like sweat and something else. Metallic. And the smell of food on top of that, warm. Luxord's armor was not warm, but Facilier's breath against his cape was warm. Those arms were steady. He trusted Luxord not to drop him.

He fell asleep.


	6. Bonus Pay

Facilier woke up in his own bed, the sun shining and head buzzing, and didn't realize something was off until he stepped off the bed and onto Luxord.

Luxord squawked. Facilier screamed. As Luxord sat up, Shadow smacked Luxord's shadow in the face, and he went back down.

“Shadow, down!” Facilier snapped, and Shadow slipped away. Facilier offered his hand to Luxord, who took it and pulled himself up awkwardly. “My apologies.”

“No, 's fine,” Luxord mumbled. He'd changed back into his black cloak, and his eyes were watering in pain. “Better'n coffee to wake me.”

Facilier nodded. He was still in his clothes from last night, which saved some hassle. He shuffled over to the door downstairs, and Luxord followed. “Good. You can pay me for staying overnight and then we can conclude our business until next week.”

“Fine words,” Luxord said. “Do you have an Esuna? My head's splitting.”

“I don't have any fancy pills,” Facilier said. “You're on your own.”

When they got to the bottom floor, the bull-faced mask shot Facilier a dirty look. Facilier ignored it. Luxord patted through his pockets, then took out a green jewel and gave it to Facilier. “So, we shall meet in seven days?”

“Sounds right,” Facilier said. He picked up the gem and rubbed it between his fingers. “You going to explain what that heart thing you were going to pay me for was about?”

Luxord smiled guilelessly. “Perhaps if you explain what hit me in the face, I'll tell you.”

“I think you slipped and fell yourself, white boy,” Facilier said. Sex was one thing, but his familiar's safety was another. He'd rather keep Shadow secret and safe than risk some idiot trying to exorcise xem. “Is that all?”

“One more thing.” Luxord walked to the wall and took the mask of the smallest Friend off the wall. “How much for these masks? I'd like a souvenir to bring my family. I'll match any price you name.”

“Not for sale.” Facilier snatched the mask away before Luxord saw it stick it's tongue out and put on his best suck up smile. “They're family heirlooms. So sorry, monsieur.”

“So be it.” Luxord shrugged. “Until next time.”

Facilier smiled and waved until Luxord left his shop via the door. Once it was closed, he collapsed into a chair and rubbed his forehead.

**Was it worth it? Giving up your dignity?**

“Shut up,” Facilier said. “I'm pretty sure he just gave me an emerald. I'm going to stay fed for a year on his pay, so I can give you more souls instead of scrounging for food, so shut up.”

And for once, they did.


	7. Day -196: Liar

Luxord stood at the center of thirteen tall white chairs; eleven in black coats stared down at him as his words echoed through the white chamber.

“The quarantine on the world of Bayou Boulevard has remained intact despite nine years lacking upkeep; the population is at stable levels and no heartless seem to have attempted to breach the quarantine so far. There is no sign they know there are worlds other than their own. However, I found signs of heartless activity pre-dating the quarantine laws, indicating heartless of unusual longevity and strength. The quarantine on this world has been in place for at least 100 years, which means the heartless native there are at least that old.”

Murmurs arose between the black cloaks. Luxord waited until they settled before he continued. “I would request missions there at least once a week to locate those heartless. The Superior has predicted the arrival of the Wielder of the Key within the next six months. The more heartless we can throw before they key as sacrifices to Kingdom Hearts, the better. Furthermore, a world capable of fostering such heartless must have a strong heart. If we were to feed it to the heartless, we would no doubt find survivors lacking hearts as we do among the rubble, and grow our army.”

“And the fact that you came back hungover has nothing to do with it?” said the dour man with the X scar on his face.

Luxord flushed, but said nothing.

“Leave him be,” said the gravel-voiced man in the third highest chair. “He has not slackened in the four years since his recruitment. One night on the town is hardly reason to punish him.”

“You say that because he brought you those...sugar donuts,” said the X scarred man.

“Look, Saix, everyone screws around once in a while,” said the man with only one eye. He wagged his finger at the X scarred man, grinning. “But hundred year old heartless have some major potential! We'll make him do double duty for a couple days. Is that good enough for you?”

Saix harrumphed, furrows lessening on the X scar. “I suppose.”

“Then you shall visit Bayou Boulevard once a week for your missions, No. X,” said the man in the tallest chair. All turned to him, silver haired, youthful, dark and grinning; the only thing that detracted from his regal looks were the traces of powdered sugar on his lips. “Be sure to bring back results, and try not to get drunk again.”

“Yes, Superior.” Luxord bowed. “It shall be done.”

“And Luxord,” the Superior added, “We still require a thirteenth member. If you find any suitable candidates, report them to me at once.”

Luxord smiled guilelessly. “Of course I will.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! I'm working on writing a part 2, so if you enjoyed this fic, please keep an eye out for that!
> 
> A big thanks to chuplayswithfire and ibenholt for being my betas and helping with research.


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